Guilt By Degrees

86

The next morning, I got a delivery from the mail room.

It turned out to be the return to the subpoena duces tecum we’d served on the doctor who’d done the fertility treatments for Lilah and Zack. I’d promised the head nurse we’d send out the official-records request, just to cover her butt for giving us Lilah’s information on the down low. But I didn’t really have any interest in the state of Lilah’s ovaries, so I set the package aside and went back to my in-box.

By four o’clock, I needed a break from legalese and I remembered the subpoena return. What I read kick-started the wheels that’d begun turning in my mind some time ago. Slowly, as I put together what I was now reading with what I already knew, I saw what everyone had missed. It wasn’t so much a legal thing. In fact, it’d never make it into court. But it explained a lot.

I called the head nurse and thanked her for the records. Then I asked her for one piece of information that wasn’t in the file. She said she’d get right back to me.

I hung up and called Bailey.

“Can you set up a meeting with Lilah’s parents?” I asked.

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as I get the rest of the info. Just set it up as soon as you can. Tonight, if possible.”

“I’ll call you back,” she said, and hung up.

I stared out the window at the Times Building, watching the colors of sunset paint the horizon. At four thirty, the sky was already preparing for nightfall. The phone rang, and I let Melia pick up-always a dicey proposition. But if it was the head nurse, I wanted her to have proof she’d reached the right party. I was in all kinds of luck. It was the head nurse and Melia put her call through. She gave me the last piece of information that confirmed what I’d suspected. I again thanked her and hung up. I called Bailey.

“Any progress on Lilah’s parents?” I asked.

“You mean, since you last asked me ten minutes ago?”

“More like…twelve.”

Bailey sighed. “They’ll see us at five thirty. I’m leaving now. Pick you up downstairs.”

I told Mario, the new leader of our security detail, that Bailey and I were going to pay a visit to the Rossmoynes, then packed up my briefcase, grabbed my purse out of the bottom drawer, and pulled on my coat.

While Bailey inched through rush-hour traffic, I filled her in on what I’d just learned. By the time I told her what I thought it all meant, we’d arrived.

Guy and Pamela Rossmoyne seemed more on edge than they had at our first meeting, and they hadn’t been all that smooth then. All to the good, I thought. When we were seated, I deliberately set a sympathetic tone.

“I just learned that Lilah had been going in for fertility treatments for nearly two years,” I said. “That’s a long time to keep trying after having had two miscarriages.”

Guy’s expression darkened. “I told Zack to let it go. Stop torturing her.” He shook his head and his face reddened. “But he wouldn’t listen. Never listened. Just wanted what he wanted.”

Torturing her. An interesting choice of words. Pamela, on the other hand, wore a sardonic expression. I aimed my next question at her.

“Did Lilah always have gynecological problems?”

“Not that I ever knew.” She paused, as though weighing whether to say more.

I waited and hoped the say more part of her would win.

“But the birth control pills didn’t help,” Pamela added.

“Lilah was on birth control?” I asked.

Pamela gave a twist of a smile. “I saw the pills in her purse about a week before the first miscarriage,” she said.

“Did Lilah ever talk to you about wanting to have children?” I asked.

Pamela gave a short bark of a laugh. “Never met anyone who wanted them less. Only kid on the block who wouldn’t babysit even for top dollar.”

“But we know she got the treatments. In fact, according to the doctor, Zack went with her for all of them.”

Guy cut in, his voice harsh. “Of course he did. The bastard was forcing her. Just couldn’t let her be.” He stood abruptly and stalked out of the room.

I started to say we weren’t through but decided we’d be better off without him.

“Your husband doesn’t think much of Zack,” I said. “Was it always that way?”

“Always,” Pamela said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But that was nothing new. He never thought anyone was good enough for his baby girl. Hated them all. Every single one.”

“But you liked Zack?” I asked.

Pamela shrugged. “I didn’t know him that well. They didn’t visit much.” She pursed her lips. “But Lilah did complain about him once. It was about six months after they were married. Said he was abusive, said he was making her miserable. Said she wanted out. I told her, ‘You made your bed, now you lie in it-just like the rest of us.’” Pamela stopped and nodded to herself. “She was just so used to wrapping her daddy around her little finger, she didn’t know how to manage a man who didn’t jump whenever she called.” Pamela folded her arms. “That was her problem.”

I was sure Lilah wished that was her only problem. I took an envelope out of my briefcase and handed it to Pamela.

“I know you have no contact with Lilah,” I said. “But if she ever happens to drop by, I’d appreciate it if you gave her this.”

Pamela raised an eyebrow and took the envelope. She made no promises, but she didn’t insult me with a lie either. It was a refreshing change.

Ten minutes later, Bailey and I were back in the car and headed for the Biltmore.

“You mind if I put the DA investigators on the house?” I asked.

“May as well. But we both know it won’t work. Lilah will find a way to get that letter, but no way she’s going to show up here, where we can grab her.”

“True,” I agreed. “But what’ve we got to lose?”

Bailey nodded.

The letter was, in part, another ploy to coax Lilah out. And Bailey was right: it wouldn’t work. It would, however, be my chance to leave a “message” for Lilah.

Bailey headed up the on-ramp to the Golden State Freeway. “I wonder if Mom would’ve told anyone about the birth control pills before the acquittal?”

“With her…? Anything’s possible,” I said.

“Do birth control pills cause miscarriage?” Bailey asked.

“They can,” I said. “And if I, who isn’t even thinking about getting pregnant, knows that-”

“Then so would Lilah.”

We rode in silence for a few moments, considering it all.

“So now we know why Lilah couldn’t afford to wait,” Bailey said. “She couldn’t keep forcing miscarriages forever.” She turned onto Grand Avenue and parked in the loading zone.

“Yeah, but there’s one more person I want to talk to.”

I gave Bailey directions to Mike Howell’s office, a small suite in a building just outside downtown. Like me, he always worked late, so now was the best time to catch him.

When he greeted us at the lobby door, I noticed his dirty-blond hair was already starting to recede. But he still looked trim in his slacks and shirtsleeves. He ushered us up the elevator and settled us on the couch in his office. He took the chair across the coffee table from us. “Can I get you anything to drink? No booze at the moment, but I’ve got water and soft drinks.”

Bailey and I gratefully accepted the water.

“So you want to talk about Lilah,” he said.

“I know you can’t say much, but since she got acquitted, and you know I won’t go to the Feds, I thought you might be able to give us a little something.”

“Fire away.”

“We looked into your ‘skinhead did it’ defense,” I said. I raised an eyebrow.

Mike nodded. He looked out the window as he spoke. “Tell you the truth, when Lilah first retained me, just based on what I saw of the prosecution’s case, I went back and forth: she did it, she didn’t do it. It was too tough to call. But when I got into…everything else…” Mike paused, then looked at me. “I don’t think she did it, Rachel.”

My expression must’ve conveyed my skepticism, because he held up a hand.

“You know I’m not one of those true believers who think all their clients are innocent victims of a vindictive prosecution. Ninety-nine percent of the time, my clients are guilty as sin.” He shook his head. “Not this time.”

“You know about Zack forcing her to get pregnant? And that she took birth control pills to miscarry?” Bailey asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sticking with the skinhead story?” I asked.

“No.” Mike looked down at his hands and frowned. “I didn’t like it myself. But Lilah insisted. She wouldn’t let me go after the real killer.”

“And that was?” I asked.

“Her father.”

Bailey and I drove back to the hotel in silence. When we got up to the room, I finally spoke. “Lilah’s either a world-class manipulator, or-”

“It really is the truth.”

There was nothing unusual about a defendant lying to his lawyer about being innocent. Defendants think-with some degree of accuracy-that a lawyer who believes in his client’s innocence will fight a lot harder than one who knows his client is guilty. But I’d never heard of a defendant offering up a straw man and then refusing to let the lawyer use that information at trial. It was a heck of a curveball, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it an incredibly clever ploy to work her lawyer? Or did her father really do it? “What do you think? You believe Daddy might’ve done it?”

She shook her head, looking perplexed. “Before today, I probably would’ve said no. But now? I don’t know.”

I remembered Lilah’s father’s fury when he spoke of Zack and his efforts to get Lilah pregnant. It made him a somewhat plausible suspect. And yet…

I headed for my bedroom. “It’s hard to believe Lilah’d take the fall for her father. I would’ve expected her to throw anyone she could under that bus.”

“Who says Mike is right? Smart as he is, he could just be another Lilah Moonie who can’t believe the pretty girl’s an ax murderer. And like you said, she might be a world-class manipulator. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet she is.”

I nodded. “And even if she thought she stood a better chance than her dad of getting the jury to acquit, there’s no telling what a jury will do. Any lawyer knows that.”

Bailey sighed, and we both went to bed. Though I was skeptical of the theory that Lilah’s father had killed Zack, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resolve the question tonight. But I was too keyed up to sleep right away. I wondered what Lilah would make of the letter I’d written to her. I’d deliberately lied-hopefully not enough to be obvious but just enough to get her to pop off and do something stupid. It was the long shot of the century, but it cost me nothing. And I enjoyed the possibility that at the very least, I’d make her worry. A satisfying thought. And a good one to fall asleep on.